


Finding Out

by jpo2107



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Grief/Mourning, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-06-03 21:15:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6626815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jpo2107/pseuds/jpo2107
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Slowly, Tim unbuttons the top button of his shirt pocket and pulls out a frayed, tattered photograph.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding Out

**Author's Note:**

> I don't often write angst, but when I do...jesus.
> 
> For context, this fic is set after the events of The Pre-Sequel and in the middle of Borderlands 2, and Tim has escaped from under Jack's thumb and is living/hiding on Pandora. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! And mega-thanks to @ashestheterrible for reading this over and generally just being supportive whenever I throw fic ideas at her.

Tim is looking through the scope of his sniper rifle, his hands steady, his breathing quiet as he finds his target through the crosshairs. He breathes in deeply, exhales, pauses for a few moments and pulls the trigger.

Boom. Headshot.

Now that _that’s_ out of the way, Tim can scamper down from his hidey hole and ransack the shack this now dead bandit was guarding for supplies before making his way back to his makeshift home. He does a quick glance around the area with his binoculars, to make sure that there aren’t any surprises waiting for him, but all seems quiet, for once. Tim still keeps his revolver loosely holstered though, in case he runs into anyone, or anything on the ground.

He’s packing up his gear, pulling his hood over his head when his ECHO buzzes quietly through his ear. He pauses his movements,slightly concerned since hardly anyone ever calls him over his ECHO anymore. Hardly anyone knows where he _is_ anymore. He debates on just not answering, but curiosity wins out at the end, and he finally accepts the call.

Tim will regret this action later.

“Tim? You there?” The unmistakable tone of Nisha’s voice floats into Tim’s ear, slightly scratchy from static but familiar, pulling at an old ache in Tim’s heart. An ache from a comradery long since passed, during a time when things were _much, much different_.  

“Yep.”

“Good. Took me fucking forever to find you. You’re getting a lot better at laying low, kid.” Nisha says, and Tim can almost see her slow smile, the same smile she’d use back on Elpis whenever Tim managed not to kill himself during a shootout with scavs. That was a long time ago, though. And Tim’s managed to get a lot better with guns in the meantime.

“If you’re trying to find me for Jack, best forget it Nisha.” Tim says as he pulls his pack over his shoulder and swings his sniper rifle over the other. “I’ll be gone before his goons can find me.”

“That’s not what I’m calling about.” Nisha’s voice is _almost_ unsteady, there’s _almost_ a quiver of something that Tim can’t place, but it makes him stop in his tracks all the same.

“What---what is it?” Tim asks. It’s not like Nisha to call him out of the blue, not since Eplis. Not since that last Vault. Not since Jack became _Handsome Jack_.

“When was the last time you talked to Wilhelm?”

“What does Wil-- _Wilhelm_ ”, Tim corrects himself, “have to do with anything?”

“Just answer me, Tim.” Nisha’’s voice is hard and cold, none of the usual..well, not warmth, but amusement that carried her words

“I haven’t--I haven’t spoken to him since I left Helios.” Tim says quietly. “He wouldn’t come with me, remember? He wanted to _stay_ . With you and Jack. For _money_.” Tim takes a deep breath through his nose and slowly exhales through his mouth. “Why are you bringing this up? Why are you even asking about---”

“Wilhelm’s dead.”

The only thing Tim can hear right now is static and blood thrumming in his ears.

“You still there?” Nisha sounds exhausted. “Tim?”

“That isn’t funny, Nisha.” Tim says angrily. “Why would you say that? There’s _no way_ \---”

“He’s dead, Tim.” Nisha repeats.

“No.” Tim’s shaking his head, shaking it as if that will reverse time and erase this conversation from his memory. He should never have answered his ECHO.

“No. That’s not possible.” Tim argues. He can feel the prickling of wetness pooling against his eyes but he presses the heel of his hand against his face and wipes it away before it can stain his cheeks. “Wilhelm is _unstoppable_. He---”

“Wilhelm _was_ unstoppable.” Nisha corrects, her voice catching slightly. “Not anymore.”

“No.” Tim repeats, the content of his stomach swirling around like a tornado, threatening to spill out of him. “No no no no no no **NO**!”

“Just thought…”Nisha sighs and clears her throat. “Just thought you’d want to know.”

“How?” Tim’s legs are shaking, his entire body is shaking, he blindly feels for the ground before his legs give out from under him.

“Vault Hunters.” Is all Nisha says.

Tim doesn’t say anything after that. Besides the static over the ECHO, the only other sounds present are his and Nisha’s breathing.

“I’m sorry, Tim.” Nisha finally speaks, her voice rough like breaking glass. “Probably doesn’t mean much but--”

“It means less than _nothing_.” Tim spits out.

There’s more silence on Nisha’s end before she responds. “Take care of yourself, kid.”

Tim’s ECHO goes dead, the static becoming louder in his ear. It finally tapers off into nothingness, and Tim stares up at Elpis in the sky, the ugly H of Helios marring the view.

Slowly, Tim unbuttons the top button of his shirt pocket and pulls out a frayed, tattered photograph. The paper is yellowing slightly, curling up at the edges, well-worn and well-loved. Tim wipes at his eyes, the tears now freely flowing down his face, blurring his vision slightly as he looks at the photograph.

It was of Tim and Wilhelm. Tim had taken it, tilting the camera to face both of them, the angle a little off, but for the most part, they were in frame. He had spent ten minutes convincing Wilhelm to let Tim have a picture of him, but the enforcer had been very reluctant to get in front of the camera. He had only relented when Tim said he’d be in the photo too. It had happened in less than 30 seconds, but Tim remembers it so vividly. He remembers his body pressed against Wilhelm’s side, his strong arm encircled  tightly around Tim’s shoulders. How the blush across Tim’s cheek is excruciatingly apparent in the photograph, even after all this time. The small smirk of Wilhelm’s lips. The light reflecting off of his robotic eye.

A small, choked sob escapes Tim’s lips as he stares at the photograph. At this frozen moment in time, when he was happy and in love, how nothing could ever be better than feeling like _that_.

Tim doesn’t move for a long time on his isolated spot on the mountainous rise. But when the sun comes up, any trace of him is gone, save for the photograph, half buried in the dust.


End file.
